


One Last Time

by Aesthetic_Wreck



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Broken Bones, Cold Weather, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, POV Jean-Luc Picard, POV Wesley Crusher, Serious Injuries, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25737040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesthetic_Wreck/pseuds/Aesthetic_Wreck
Summary: Originally the TNG episode "Final Mission" was going to take place on an ice moon instead of a desert one, so naturally my brain instantly said "HUDDLING FOR WARMTH FIC" and this was the end result.
Relationships: Wesley Crusher & Jean-Luc Picard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I discovered a thing so I wrote a thing. Enjoy my bastard sentences.

Picard did not let his demeanor reveal the true extent of his worry, but knew that their dander was slowly growing. When he, Captain Dirgo, and Wesley had crash-landed on this ice moon, the shuttle was falling apart and would not be safe as a means of shelter. After some protesting on Dirgo’s part, it was agreed that they would set out for the mountains on the far horizon. So far, luck seemed to be on their side regarding the weather with a clear sky, but the wind was rather harsh. The replicator on the shuttle was damaged beyond repair, and as a result, none of them had adequate clothing to protect them from the cold. Picard could feel the cold settling in his very core and he picked up the pace a little in an attempt to warm himself slightly. He knew Wesley must be faring worse, but he made no show of it. In fact, Picard saw Dirgo stumble and fall behind them both, and Wesley helped him back up with a scathing “And you were worried about how tough Captain Picard would be?”

The mountains drew steadily closer, but Wesley was starting to get strange EM emissions on his tricorder.

“What are you saying?” Dirgo asked, alarmed. “That there’s something waiting for us over there?”

Wesley shook his head, confused. “I’m not sure. It just keeps reading as a repeating energy pattern.”

“Ensign,” said Picard, frowning, “are you suggesting this energy is not naturally occurring?”

“The readings could be indicative of some electromagnetic properties in the rocks, but I don't think so,” said Wesley.

“Could it be a life-form?” Picard had to enunciate carefully to get the words out through his numb lips.

“The patterns are fairly organized, it’s possible.” Wesley looked to Picard for orders.

Picard sighed. “Well, we can’t go back, and we can’t stay here. We’ve got to keep going for the mountains no matter what is waiting for us there.”

Thankfully, they had managed to find the mouth of a vast cave. Unfortunately, it was extremely drafty, and the weather was getting steadily worse. Also, it seemed as though every possible stone was covered in a thick sheet of ice and snow, so it would be difficult to heat them with their phasers. Still, some shelter was better than none.

“Sir?” Wesley said, his voice slightly weaker now from exhaustion and cold. “The EM reading from earlier? The pattern’s changed. The frequency’s peaking a lot higher.” Picard had just opened his mouth to say something when there was a clinking sound, and a glass bottle fell from Dirgo’s coat.

“What’s this?” Wesley demanded, jumping down to where the bottle dropped. Dirgo started to look uncomfortable.

“That’s called dresci, it’s from my planet.”

Picard took the bottle and smelled the contents. “It’s alcohol.”

“It’s for medicinal purposes,” Dirgo tried to defend. “It’s very warming, I was going to share it with you!” 

“I won’t let you waste this,” Picard said impatiently. “This is more valuable to us as a disinfectant.”

“It’s mine!” Dirgo protested, but Picard was already handing the bottle to Wesley.

“Mister Crusher, stow that in the medical supplies, keep your eye on it. Let’s take a look around the cave. Mister Crusher, look for anything we can use to warm ourselves, no matter how small. Captain Dirgo, will you lead the way?”

Despite being out of the open, it was growing colder, and Picard knew they would not survive without finding something to use as an outside heat source. Turning a corner, the three were very surprised to find a roaring fire in the middle of the space. Feeling no heat from it at their distance, Dirgo rushed closer. Once he had reached a few feet in front of it, however, there was a loud ZAP and Dirgo was knocked backward by a forcefield.

“Mister Crusher,” Picard said as Dirgo stood back up, “what is that?” 

Wesley looked at the readings on his tricorder. “It seems to be some kind of tightly confined annular force field, sir.”

“Put there to protect the fire,” said Picard.

“Yes.” Wesley’s expression of disappointment mirrored Picard’s own. “There has to be a way to deactivate it, sir.”

“We can, with our phasers,” Dirgo said, as if this were the most obvious answer.

“Mister Dirgo, I think it would be wiser--” Picard began, but Dirgo paid him no mind and fired at the forcefield with his phaser.

“Captain!” Wesley shouted over the sound of the phaser. “The EM reading, it’s really spiking now!”

“I think it’s working!” shouted Dirgo. His triumph was short-lived, however, for a rumbling sounded throughout the cavern, and something rushed into the cave like a ghost.

“Dirgo! Stop firing!” Picard yelled, but he might as well have been speaking to a wall. The disembodied something knocked Dirgo’s phaser out of his hand, but the rumbling grew louder. Rocks and ice started to fall all around them, and Picard’s stomach dropped when he saw that many were starting to drop right above--

“Wesley!” Picard shouted, and without hesitation, shoved Wesley out of harm’s way. Then, with a crash, there was a sickening pain to his head, and he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that took so long. I don't really have an excuse, I just didn't have any motivation.

Wesley forced his shaking hands to steady themselves as he looked over the worst of the captain’s injuries. 

“Apply pressure to that wound,” Wesley ordered, scanning Picard with the tricorder. He stopped over Picard’s right leg, which stuck out at an awkward angle that turned Wesley’s stomach. “The worst break’s here.” Dirgo, however, didn’t seem quite as concerned for the Captain’s plight.

“What was that thing?” he asked, taking his hand away from Picard’s head wound to look at Wesley.

“Keep the pressure constant!” Wesley ordered, trying to inject the tone he heard his mother use so often when treating a patient. Picard stirred at the noise, his eyes slowly fluttering open. 

“Ensign,” he said, his voice monotone, though Wesley could hear the strain it took for the captain to speak. “How bad is it?”

Wesley took a deep breath, fighting against the burning behind his eyes and willed his voice to remain steady. “Your right leg is broken. You have a fraction in your left arm.” Swallowing, Wesley steeled himself to say the worst. “And you took a blow to the head. But we’re getting the bleeding under control,” he finished, trying to add optimism to his voice that he wanted so badly to feel himself. Picard’s face betrayed no sign of apprehension, and he nodded almost imperceptively, as though in approval.

“Well done,” he said. “I’ll be alright, I just need to catch my breath.” Wesley noticed, however, how violently Picard’s hands were starting to shake, and how his lips were starting to turn blue. Dirgo seemed to catch onto this as well and seemed to decide that pessimism was the best form of action.

“Are you telling the truth?” he asked roughly, and Wesley turned to him, wishing the man would say something helpful for once.

“He’s bleeding inside, I’ve seen it before,” he said dispassionately. “He won’t survive, especially in this cold.”

Just like that? You’re just going to give up? Wesley’s stomach clenched painfully, and then was replaced with a swoop of anger.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, taking the cloth from Dirgo’s hands to pour some of the dresci onto it. It turned slightly frosty on the cloth, but could still be used for Picard’s wounds. Still, Wesley winced at the stinging cold against his bare hand and had to dodge to avoid Dirgo grabbing it. 

“You’re wasting your time,” Dirgo said, still attempting to take the bottle. “You should save that dresci for us.” 

Wesley was too angry to trust himself to speak, but Picard was more lucid than Dirgo apparently thought. “Mister Dirgo, I would appreciate it if you didn’t bury me before I’m gone,” he said, his voice missing its usual bite when he disapproved of something. Dirgo got up and stormed away, leaving Wesley alone at the captain’s side. Picard’s face became slightly more serious, however, as he fixed his gaze on Wesley.

“The trouble is, he might be right.” He regarded Wesley gravely, but Wesley shook his head vehemently because he could notーwould notー accept those words to be true.

“No sir, he’s not, you’ll be alright.” Even Wesley’s insistence sounded weak, as his voice betrayed a wobble that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature.

“Wesley, listen to me,” Picard said and Wesley fell silent. “My vision is blurred. I have no feeling in my right leg, and I’m growing numb everywhere else from the cold. I’m going to get worse, not better. I won’t be able to help you.” His gaze shifted over to Dirgo, who continued to explore the boundaries of the cave. “Now, you’re going to have to stand up to Dirgo on your own.”  
Wesley nodded slowly, knowing that he was the only one the captain could depend upon. “Yes sir,” he said, feeling slightly sick and way out of his league. Picard seemed to sense his distress, and smiled as well as he could.

“Hey, good man,” he said.

Picard slipped into a half-unconscious state, and though every instinct was telling Wesley to keep him awake, Wesley knew he had to be a little more productive if any of them were to get out of this alive. Preparing himself for the blast of cold, Wesley removed his outer uniform shirt, remaining in his thin t-shirt underneath. He tucked his uniform around the Captain as best as he could without moving the injured arm, and joined Dirgo to see what he was holding.

“Look at this,” said Dirgo, holding something vaguely phaser-shaped. On closer inspection, Wesley realized it was Dirgo’s phaser, and they deduced that whatever flew at them and disarmed Dirgo had been a sentry of sorts, to protect the fire. To test the theory, Wesley had Dirgo move toward the fire. As soon as he did, Wesley’s tricorder beeped rapidly.

“There,” said Wesley, “the EM patterns just went to forty.”

Dirgo threw up his hands in frustration. “Where is this getting us?” he asked exasperatedly. We’re supposed to be getting to the fire.”

“If I can figure out how to manipulate the frequency, maybe I can control it,” said Wesley. “The sentry first appeared when you used your phaser. That means it could respond to heat, or collinated energy.” 

Dirgo’s eyes light as he got an idea. “If you’re right, we could lure it away with a phaser!”

That wasn’t right, Wesley could see too many gaping holes in this plan. Dirgo was insistent, however, that a phaser set at the highest setting could fire at the force field sitting on a rock, while Dirgo would fire with his own phaser on the lowest possible setting.

“We don’t even know if the sentry responds to different phaser signatures!” Wesley shouted, trying desperately to get this man to see sense, but Dirgo seemed to have lost his patience.

“Listen!” he hissed, getting close to Wesley’s face. “Your captain is dying. He needs the heat to survive. If you want him to pull through, you will carry out this plan.”

Wesley could have screamed in fury at the unfairness of Dirgo’s argument. He was right, though. The captain was dying, and while Dirgo might not give a damn about it, he needed Wesley’s cooperation, and Wesley knew now he had to give it. The plan seemed to work at first. Wesley’s phaser fired at the forcefield from a rock, and the sentry went after it. Coming out from behind, Dirgo fired his own phaser at the field, and after a few seconds, the integrity seemed to be fading. 

Before Dirgo could celebrate his victory, however, the sentry caught on to what he was doing, disabling Wesley’s phaser and flying at Dirgo. Dirgo let out a long, drawn-out scream as the sentry lifted him off his feet and sent him flying across the cave. Wesley ran to himーor rather, what Wesley could see of him. For Dirgo’s body was enveloped in the same fiberglass that the sentry had disabled the phasers with, and when Wesley looked toward the head area, he was met with Dirgo’s terrified face forever frozen, his eyes wide and unseeing, dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned to make this two chapters, but it kind of got away from me, so I think I'll have one more chapter after this. Your kudos and comments are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Why would there be a fire in the middle of the cave protected by that entity? Who knows, least of all me. Huddling for warmth will come next chapter. Please let me know what you think in the comments!


End file.
